


2:00 a.m. in the morning

by SociopathicArchangel



Category: Supernatural, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, because i have no idea why, if anyone can figure out why i love aus/crossovers so much pls tell me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociopathicArchangel/pseuds/SociopathicArchangel
Summary: The night is young. The night is in stasis. The night is forever trapped in its state of unaging, forced to watch its loved ones decay and degrade and turn to dust.





	2:00 a.m. in the morning

The boys try not to stay up on the road at 2:00 AM in the morning because a) that’s dumb as hell b) car accidents via sleepiness, because even Dean can’t fight fatigue forever even though he tries and deserves an award for trying, but the human body is a prison and c) tired hunters are inefficient hunters.

But sometimes they have to. Dean doesn’t put on music so Sammy can sleep, and he drives, humming tunes under his breath, hoping they’ll get to their destination on time.

Sometimes, at 2:00 AM in the morning, the radio turns itself on, slowly, as if trying to be polite, and Dean appreciates that it’s trying to be polite at least, because Sammy is sleeping and he would honestly punch even the stupid radio if it woke his brother up.

He doesn’t startle. He doesn’t flinch. He’s a good hunter but years of waking up to his father’s radio turning on slowly at ungodly hours have gotten him used to this. Besides, it’s harmless, and the show’s been on for years and sometimes it’s just relaxing to hear about news that’s not about freak storms or dead cattle or demonic omens or the end of the world. Hearing about something that appears so detached from his everyday struggle calms him.

There’s a brief, almost gentle, pulse of static, and then the ever-familiar voice croons from the speakers.

_“_ _The night is young. The night is in stasis. The night is forever trapped in its state of unaging, forced to watch its loved ones decay and degrade and turn to dust. Welcome to…_ _”_

Dean grins. He doesn’t really know where this place that’s constantly on the radio is located on the map. He’s tried looking at every map he can, trying to see if maybe, _just maybe,_ they have two words that stand for the most bizarre town Dean knows of, printed on the paper. No such luck. He’s tried pinpointing it himself, trying to remember the roads driven on and the turns taken, but he ends up with nothing but crisscrossing lines that don’t make sense.

Sam stirs a little from his seat. Dean turns the volume down a little.

_“_ _Big news today, listeners. It looks like the Sheriff’s Secret Police have finally caught who’s been trying to set antiques loose into the Whispering Forest. They had help from former running back Maliq Herrera, who was painting in the forest when he suddenly heard an inhuman shriek and went to see if there was anyone who needed help because they were being devoured by the forest. He then saw young Alison Mills trying to move cages of antiques and shouted for the Sheriff’s Secret Police, who then responded quickly, as we are, of course, constantly monitored by the government. And although the Sheriff’s Secret Police cannot send people into the forest, they’ve certainly tried putting people **around** it._ _”_

Dean frowns for a moment before remembering a few years back when he first heard about the forest that turned humans into trees on the radio. It’d been a really long while. He was probably twelve during that time.

_“_ _Of course, since Maliq Herrera does not technically exist, credit to the arrest falls on the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s shoulders. So, congratulations on a job well done! Thank you for keeping our town safe._ _”_

Well, that’s a little unfair. Dean turns the car to the right as an intersection comes up.

_“_ _Although, in this humble reporter’s opinion, I think Maliq Herrera should be thanked for his efforts too. Existent or nonexistent, it is our job as citizens of our fair city to keep it safe, and to keep each other safe. So – good job, Maliq!_ _”_

Better. Dean finds himself leaning back further into his seat. He focuses on the radio host’s voice.

_“_ _A friendly reminder to everyone that it’s almost Street Cleaning Day again. Be sure to start barricading your houses and gather the necessary supplies so that you don’t have to go out during Street Cleaning Day and have to face the choice of saving yourself or saving your children._

_Let’s have a look at traffic._

_The pool of nothingness that appeared in the middle of Route 800 two weeks ago is still there, although it has not grown or shrunk in size. However, there have been reports of strange noises coming from it. These noises are said to sound like the cry of children, coming from deep, deep, below. Possibly deeper than what is geographically possible. Possibly deeper than what the circumference of the earth should be. Cries of children that are bouncing off the perfectly smooth walls of an impossible cavern._

_But that’s space for you, right? Just as tricky as time._

_Vehicles are still not allowed to access Route 800 until this situation is handled and drivers are suggested to find alternative routes, fly or resort to jumping on neighborhood roofs like we commonly see in popular action movies like A Walk to Remember or The Fault in Our Stars. Just be sure you read the stars properly so you can chart a path that’s not ridden with spikes or heat-activated lasers, like what happened in The Fault in Our Stars. Seriously, who reads the stars without a good old tire iron?”_

He bites his lip to keep himself from laughing. He has to take Cas to this place if the angel hasn’t already been there. Actually, knowing Cas, the dude would probably know exactly where to chart the town on a map.

The broadcast goes on to list out several updates of a few situations (the Moonlight All-Nite Diner had started floating two nights ago; Dean hadn’t heard that broadcast), the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner, an ad, the community calendar (Thursday was scheduled to be song day, in which everyone was encouraged to hide lest they go outside and be infected with the music bug that burrowed into people’s ears and made them sing until they coughed their vocal cords out) and the host talking about his niece’s recent birthday.

Sam starts to stir.

“Dean?” he croaks. His eyes drift to the radio that’s not displaying numbers, instead displaying a violet symbol that looks like an eye with a crescent moon acting as reflected light – which, hilarious, really. Moon. Reflected light.

The radio’s display doesn’t even normally do colors.

“Oh,” Sam says. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a hole in the middle of a road that goes on forever and a restaurant is floating in mid-air. No sign of going down.” Dean grins.

Sam’s brow furrows worriedly. “Are they okay?”

“Dude, they’re _fine._ If there’s anything we know about this stupid town is that they always pull through.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Man, I haven’t heard from them in so long.”

“We really shouldn’t make a habit of listening to the radio at ass o’clock in morning.”

“I know we shouldn’t, but.” Sam shrugs. “God, I haven’t been there in so long either. How old was I when we last went? Like, maybe, seventeen?”

“Yeah, I think seventeen,” Dean says. A few years later Sam ran away, and one of the first places Dean drove to was the town. He was mildly disappointed that Sam wasn’t there (mostly not – because the town was the very definition of dangerous); a kind old lady told him he’d find his brother and that he just had to be patient.

Sam is smiling now, remembering. “You know, when I used to cram for college, the radio in my room would still turn on. Same symbol.” He gestures towards the display. “Same guy. Same good old Night Vale.”

“I’m thinking we should bring Cas,” Dean says, “If he hasn’t already been there.”

“He probably has.”

“Yeah, probably, but they got maybe the best pie in the country,” Dean grins. “Much better than the stuff you get me from convenience stores.”

“At least I don’t bring you _cake.”_

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

_“…and perhaps they will reminisce and miss looking up at familiar purple skies, looking up at the familiar watchful moon, looking up and looking up and looking up and – well, the void isn’t really something you want to look up to unless you want to start screaming at the realization that when you stare at it, it stares back. And when you scream into it…you get the picture._ _”_

Sam shudders.

Dean chuckles. “I love this guy.”

_“_ _And now, listeners, as we wait for Intern Narin to return to the studio with an update on the situation at the Moonlight All-Nite Diner, I take you – to the weather._ _”_

Sam leans back into his seat and sighs. Dean fingers start to tap the rhythm as the weather comes on.

They should definitely visit again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: aseraphfell.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @LeviticusAW  
> youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/kageroujo


End file.
